


Cloth

by imera



Series: Rarepairs shorts - Hermione/Pansy [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brainwashing, Gen, Prisoner of War, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:59:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9437174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imera/pseuds/imera
Summary: She's captured and tortured, and asks for help from someone unexpected.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the rarepair-shorts for the prompt "Hollow"

Hermione’s body ached as she sat in the dark room, her skin itching as if she’d been brushed by a poisonous plant. She could still hear the voice of the Death Eater who captured her, his muffled words barely making it through the door. She believed he mentioned her but she couldn’t be sure as other sounds also reached her ear, sounds of people screaming and begging the Death Eaters to stop. She knew then that whatever would happen to her, it would not be nice.

The days passed slowly by and she experienced just what some snatchers did to mudbloods. Constant torture and name calling, hoping they would eventually break her into confessing. Her body hurt like it had never hurt before, she was hungry and tired, and found herself longing for death.

She’d lost count of how much time passed, as there were no windows in the room, and she was never allowed to sleep unless they were done. She imagined she’d been a prisoner for a week when someone new entered her small room. It was a girl, a girl with short black hair and a familiar snotty nose, but even though she was the same girl Hermione remembered from back in school, she was still different.

Pansy placed a tray of food next to Hermione, then picked up a damp cloth and slowly cleaned Hermione’s face.

“Parkinson?” She was startled by Hermione’s words. The cloth was pulled back as Pansy stepped back, only to return a second later, moving faster, and harder. “Please, Pansy,” Hermione begged, not sure what to expect.

“Don’t speak.”

“Please,” Hermione begged, not willing to give up.

“I said don’t speak, Pansy snapped.

“Pansy, you’ve got to help me.”

“I do not.” She wasn’t sure if Pansy was done or not, but she left none the less, closing the door behind her. Tears ran down Hermione’s face, her almost clean face. She wanted to call for Pansy’s help, but if she wouldn’t even let her beg in the room Hermione doubted Pansy would return.

It was not the only time Pansy returned. After another three torture sessions, and deprivation of sleep, she entered the room and dropped off some food and cleaned Hermione’s face.

“How long have I been here?” Hermione asked, not holding her breath for an answer.

“Four days,” Pansy replied calmly.

“Only four?” Hermione felt her body slump even further at the thought of another day in the hands of those men. “Can you deliver a message for me?”

“No, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to die.”

Her answer was short, but it told Hermione all she needed to know. She decided then to wait until the next time before pushing Pansy again.

“I know you are afraid, but the light side will win, and when they do I’ll make sure they won’t punish you for what you’ve been forced to do.”

 

“How do you know they will win?”

“It might take some time, but the good side always wins.” Pansy did not reply, instead she got up and left the room.

The next time she returned Hermione was in an even worse state than before. “How many days?”

“This is the sixth day,” Pansy said as she cleaned Hermione’s face again.

All Hermione wanted to do was sleep, but she pushed herself to ask Pansy for her help. “How many has died so far?”

Pansy didn’t reply, but her movements softened, and Hermione could hear her breath as it was breaking.

“Don’t you feel sorry for us? The mudbloods.” Hermione spat the last word with a disgust.

“Don’t do this,” Pansy begged.

“We are being tortured because we’re different, because some people think we are not as entitled to magic. Do you really think I deserve to be tortured into confessing I’ve stolen magic, is this what you believe in?”

“Please don’t, they will punish my little brother if they discover I’ve misbehaved.”

“The light side can help both you and your brother, it’s not too late to turn.” Pansy left then as quickly as she could, her robes flowing behind her as she covered her face.

It would be another two days of torture before Hermione had the chance to try again. She was in worse shape than ever and the torture was getting to her, she was almost believing the stories the snatchers told, stories about mudbloods having killed wizards and witches and stolen their magic. She kept telling herself it was a lie, but she began to doubt in herself.

“If you care, even if it’s after I’m dead, you can get help by leaving a note asking for help in a hidden compartment behind a loose brick by the east entrance of Hogsmeade, tell them where they can meet you if they should find your letter convincing.”

“So I will risk my life and they might not even help me?”

“Tell them you know where I am, and that you will only help if you and your brother are safe.”

“I can’t, I’m sorry.”

Hermione’s heart dropped as she watched Pansy leave. She knew then that she would die there, alone in a small room. All she could do was hope her parents had a good life in Australia, and that the war would end and everyone who were still alive would live a good life.

Again she lost track of time, and the next time Pansy entered the room it felt as if she’s been tortured for a week. Hermione hurt too much to try and convince Pansy of doing the right thing, so she said nothing, barely opening her eyes as Pansy cleaned her face. After leaving Hermione tried to pick up the cup of soup, but her arms were heavy, and even though she knew she should eat, she wasn’t hungry.

After she napped a little the snatchers returned and continued torturing her, telling her lies which she began to accept as the truth, blaming her for things which even happened before she was born, hurting her until she collapsed from the exhaustion.

Time meant nothing to her as she gave up on life, somehow still holding on to the truth, or what she believed was the truth.

When they came she believed it was the end of her life, that she said something which they could use against her. She didn’t fight, or try to say anything, instead she kept her eyes closed and hoped it would be over soon.

Hermione must have fallen asleep as the next time she opened her eyes she found herself in a bright room, which smelled of flowers, of fresh air. She wondered if she might be dead, but then saw the familiar face of Molly Weasley.

Looking around the room she came to the conclusion she was in St Mungos, even though she had no idea how she got there.

When the old woman realised she was finally awake Hermione almost wished she hadn’t opened her eyes, as her affection was overwhelming.

A week later after several days of spells and potions bringing her back to health they finally released her. Molly took her home, or to 12 Grimmauld Place, the closest thing she had to home. Hermione’s body was mostly brought back to health, but her mind still suffered, she still believed she was a thief and a murderer even though she knew it was a lie, and Molly kept telling her it was a lie. And every time she slept she was haunted by the men who tortured her.

When they were inside the house Hermione went to her room, closed the door and lay down on the bed. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the visions, failing badly as she could almost feel his wand against her rib-cage, cursing her until she would confess, something she never did even though their lies twisted her beliefs.

She must have fallen asleep as the next time she opened her eyes someone was standing next to her bed. Startled Hermione moved as close to the wall as possible.

“Shhh, it’s only me.” a familiar voice said calmly.

“Pansy?” Hermione asked as she breathed heavy, trying to calm her body. “What are you doing here?”

“After they were sure I was telling the truth they took me in, my brother and I.”

“I’m glad,” Hermione admitted. She was, but she wished Pansy would have gone for help the first time she begged her to. Hermione chose not to mention it, she was still alive, which was more than she could say about some of the other prisoners.

Then Pansy did something familiar, something that soothed Hermione. She picked up a wet cloth and softly washed Hermione’s face. The gesture made her smile a bit, the cool feeling easing the headache which had returned after her nightmare.

“I’m sorry,” Pansy apologised once done.

“It’s fine, you did the right thing, in the end.”

To Hermione’s shock Pansy grabbed her hand and held tightly. Hermione could see a faint smile on Pansy’s face, a smile which warmed Hermione’s heart.

“Please stay until I fall asleep,” Hermione begged as she felt her mind drift away once more. Pansy nodded, then surprised Hermione by laying down next to her in the bed, her hand caressing Hermione’s hair as she closed her eyes.


End file.
